


Made to Love You

by Captain_Lexa



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Androids, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Artificial Intelligence, Hurt Tony Stark, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Iron Man 3, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2020-10-09 05:18:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20510327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Lexa/pseuds/Captain_Lexa
Summary: Tony builds yet another AI, this one designed to help cope with his post-traumatic stress disorder. As per usual, he takes things too far and creates something much more human than he ever expected. People have always said he was too attached to his creations, but it's never been quite like this.





	1. “Why don’t you just build something?”

“You know, and thank you, by the way for listening. It’s something about just getting it off my chest and… putting it out there in the atmosphere, instead of holding this in. I mean, this is what gets people sick, y’know?”

Tony wasn’t even thinking at this point. He was simply sharing, unabashedly emitting his darker feelings into the air and trusting his friend to guide them somewhere far away.

“Wow, I had no idea you were such a good listener. To be able to share all my intimate thoughts and my experiences with someone. It just… cuts the weight of it in half, y’know? It’s like the snake swallowing its own tail. Everything comes full circle, and- and the fact that you’ve been able to help me process-“

A sudden silence cuts through the room as Tony’s eyes land on Bruce, who mirrored a child that had been caught sleeping in class. He was rubbing his eyes and jerking his head quickly as he struggled deciding what to look at.

“Sorry, wha-“

“You with me?”

“I was, yeah.” Bruce answered far too quickly. “Where- we were at, uh-“

_“You actively napping?”_

Already knowing there was no other answer, Tony tried to be understanding. It had been a long story, and he couldn’t blame Bruce for losing a little focus at one point or another.

“I- I was, I- I- I drifted…”

“Where did I lose you?”

A few beats of silence passed as Bruce seemed to debate his answer. Hell, it wasn’t like he could lie, what with how unique this little tale had been. He was smart enough to know that too, after all their shared experiences. It was only a moment or two before he finally surrendered the truth.

“Elevator in Switzerland?”

“So you heard none of it?”

This was the moment Tony could feel all those dark feelings returning. The weight that he had lifted off his chest and sent off into the atmosphere settling once more in the scarring of his chest. The cave that had first been carved in Afghanistan and had only fathered more and more tunnels over the years, burrowing deep into his psyche.

“I’m sorry. I am not that kind of doctor. I’m not a therapist. It’s not my training, I- I don’t have-“

“So? What, the time?” Tony interrupted, laying bare his disappointment.

“Temperament.”

“You know what, now that I think about it. Ugh God, my original wound. 1983, alright? I’m fourteen years old, I still have a nanny? That was weird.”

From then on, Tony tries to play it off. He only tells Bruce the most superficial things that, honestly, he’d tell anyone. He shares every strange little fact he can remember as a way to spite his friend for standing him up, when Tony had so readily handed him a front row ticket to watching him tear out his own heart.

He’s hurt, more now than he was before, but Bruce doesn’t need to know that. Not when that conversation had been enough to remind Tony of a fact so concrete he never should have forgotten it:

Tony Stark is not good with people. He never has been, and he never will be. There’s just something missing. Something not quite right with the frayed wires in his head, and he can’t imagine sitting down with anyone else to try and unpack all these issues he’s finally ready to address.

He doesn’t feel comfortable trying to share his feelings with anyone else. The risk of having someone reject him like this - unintentional or not - makes him feel like he’s thinking too far into this. Like maybe he thinks his problems are bigger than they are, or that he’s just batshit out of his mind.

Engineering though. He’s good with that.

There’s no one who’s ever shown a talent as young as he had. No one who’s ever done the things he has with nothing more than some scraps in a cave.

Now that he’s all alone again, tinkering in a lab that he’s marked as off limits for all other Avengers, there’s just one voice, one thing that keeps running through his mind.

_“Why don’t you just build something?”_

Turning his attention towards the ceiling, Tony leans back into his chair with a heavy sigh.

“Jarvis, how do you feel about a little sibling?”

“Are you intending to make an extension, sir?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a robotic therapist.”

“But, sir, isn’t that what I’m for?”

Tony can’t help but smile at the teasing. It was a factor of the personality he programmed, sure, but there was never any predicting how it might manifest itself. Jarvis was a person in his own right, and for a long time, he filled a void no one else could.

Maybe, this new kid could do that too.

Tony honestly doesn’t spend that much time debating it before he decides to build another AI. This one isn’t programmed to solve all his problems and pass him tissues every time he cries, but it _is_ designed to listen. It’ll have all the best psychological studies stored in its database, ready to execute them in a way similar to a well informed, close friend or overly concerned mother rather than a therapist. A robot with the friendliest face, made to comfort and assure its creator.

Now, Tony’s not exactly the best at looking after himself. (There’s certainly a reason he has to keep building AIs to help him do it.) He knows he can't be trusted to activate his new android since he's always minimizing his own problems. Plus, there’s the whole problem he has with just breathing when he’s having one of these panic attacks. He imagines calling for the aid would be near impossible in that state.

Ultimately, he tinkers with the settings so that his biological readings will feed straight into the device’s programming, kicking him online whenever there's the usual tell tale spike of an attack. He calls it his Panic Engaged Tether for Emotional Rehabilitation.

He names it PETER for short.


	2. Just Let Me Catch My Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony builds yet another AI, this one designed to help cope with his post-traumatic stress disorder. As per usual, he takes things too far and creates something much more human than he ever expected. People have always said he was too attached to his creations, but it's never been quite like this.

Being Tony Stark came with full agenda. Thankfully, he got pretty good at navigating it. It was a long time ago that he realized he had this ability to move things around himself. Meetings could be rescheduled or cancelled without a minute’s notice or a reason why. It was one of the perks to being in his shoes, and he was glad to exploit it.

But sometimes… it just couldn’t be avoided.

Like tonight. The city wanted to throw a celebration, an anniversary dinner for the Battle of New York. The very first time the Avengers came together to save the world. Huzzah.

Looking forward to it about as much as anyone would expect, Tony spent the majority of the day locked away in his lab, working on his newest creation. With a few minor assists from one of Helen Cho’s prototypes, it was actually turning out pretty well. More realistic and human than Tony could have ever expected.

As he so often did, he started to forget about his original purpose. He lost himself in making his design the most it could be, whistling along to AC/DC under his breath as he tinkered.

There was still a long itemized list of things he wanted to get done when Happy appeared in the doorway. “You can’t put this off all night, Tony. You’ve gotta get ready.”

“Or, and hear me out here, what if I don’t?”

His answer was a less than amused, but still somewhat sympathetic look.

“Look Boss, you said it yourself. This is important. It’s the first time the world’s really gonna see the team together since-“ A pointed look from Tony himself was enough to have Happy shouldering on, “Well, you know. You gotta let them see that you’re still a team.”

“Didn’t I make the ‘A’ on the side of the tower big enough?”

This time, Happy let him stew in the silence, sitting for several long moments before finally sighing. “Pepper’s not gonna make it, is she?”

“She thinks you two need a little more time.”

“Right.”

Before even stepping foot out of the car, Tony regretted coming. Cameras flashed at him every chance they got, but instead of stopping to pose like he might normally, he hurried right inside with a tight lipped smile.

“You don’t know that much about time management, do you, Stark?” Natasha had greeted him at their reserved table, kissing the air next to his cheek, so as not to leave a mark with her lipstick.

“Sweetheart, if I knew how to manage my time, I wouldn’t be here.”

And on went the pleasantries.

Honestly, it was turning out not to be so bad. Sure, Tony was a little uncomfortable and that tight feelings never fully left his chest, but he wasn’t freaking out yet. Not like he would have a few months ago. He was genuinely proud of himself and how far he had managed to come, in a way that differed from all his other arrogance. He was starting to think that… maybe he wouldn’t need this new AI after all. Maybe he should just store its files on an old server and come back to it sometime further on down the line. Shove the body into the back of some storage space or repurpose it. One thing or the other.

Sure, the night wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad either, and that was good enough.

He would have had to be someone with better luck to have gotten off that easy. It should have been painfully obvious something would have gone wrong, as according to the unspoken law of super hero tragedy.

It started with the mayor introducing some documentary styled video for the night’s main entertainment. The screen was filled with witness after witness lamenting to the camera what the Avengers meant to them as some sentimental music played in the background. Different would-be victims explaining how each member of the team saved their life at one point or another in their journey. In between each clip was a different flash from the news of that fateful day. People running out of a building, Steve directing them down a street, Tony... soaring through the air with a nuke.

Feeling his throat closing up, his lungs coming together around what feels like nothing, he stumbles out of his chair. Just as he expected, there's suddenly a thousand eyes on him. Bruce is already reaching for his wrist, and Tony's sure he looks concerned, but he just can't _see it _because everything's so blurry. His heart rate that was oh so steadily raising the entire time is suddenly drilling into his chest. He wrenches his arm out of his friend's grasp, trying his best to focus on the voice begging for his attention on stage, when suddenly there's a light weight curling around his shoulder.

"I think Mr. Stark needs to step away for a minute.”

Tony doesn't even look to see who's hand is on his shoulder, doesn't even register that it's an unfamiliar voice. He's just thankful that someone is trying to get him out of there, leaving blindly with this figure following quietly behind. The hand on his shoulder never waivers, but there is an added touch of the arm its attached to trailing diagonally over his back as the person stands on the opposite side of him.

It's a comforting feeling, Tony thinks as he stumbles out into the fresh air.

He's more or less falling than he is sitting down, but there's already a body behind him accounting for that. A chest pressed to his back as those strong arms curl around his chest. They follow him all the way down to the ground, the mysterious stranger’s legs spreading to account for Tony's presence between them, bending at the knee as he curls around the avenger's back.

It's a little... strange, but somehow it feels right. Tony doesn't even think about breaking away. He just leans into the weight and accepts it, eyes closing as his breathing slowly returns to normal and the trembling begins to subside. He finds himself clutching at the forearms in front of him without ever giving his body permission.

"What are you doing?" He eventually finds the strength to rasp over the other's humming. (He can't recall when it started.)

The stranger is quick to answer from where his head is resting on Tony's back, voice soft and gentle. "It's called deep pressure stimulation. It's believed that applying pressure or firm touch to someone experiencing stress or anxiety could alleviate their symptoms. Similar to swaddling a baby, but I'd never call you a baby, Sir.”

Even as fuzzy as his brain currently is, Tony doesn't take long to put it together.

“Peter?"

"You seem to be calming down, Mr. Stark. Would you like me to move?”

Tony stops to take in the area around them. They're behind the building in some secluded alleyway Peter must have picked to avoid the swarms of media out front. It's dirty and grimy, and Tony's 90% sure he passed out around here on a drug binge in his youth. It's cold outside too, but he can still feel where the warmth radiates from the microprocessor in Peter's chest, snug against his back.

"That won't be necessary."


	3. I’m the Mechanic, I Fix Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony builds yet another AI, this one designed to help cope with his post-traumatic stress disorder. As per usual, he takes things too far and creates something much more human than he ever expected. People have always said he was too attached to his creations, but it's never been quite like this.

There’s minutes of silence that pass after Tony’s confirmation. He takes the time to breathe, closing his eyes and embracing the solace that only his machines have ever been able to sustain. The warm patch against his suit, emitting from the microprocessor embedded within Peter’s chest, continues to build, steadily becoming uncomfortable, like a heating pad set too high. At the same time, Peter’s humming is becoming just the tiniest bit louder and less melodic.

“Is this supposed to be... comforting?” He feels alright quipping now, his heartbeat tapering off into its resting pace.

“You said moving was not necessary.”

“I’m talking about the noise- the gentle roasting of my lower back?” Shifting to alleviate the heat, Tony found himself frowning as the grip around him loosened.

“Apologies, Mr. Stark. I don’t think you were quite finished assembling me before you left. I heard some trigger words through your comms, and I could read your heartbeat rising, so I did the best I could to get my systems up and running. By the time I arrived at the function, your vitals were already spiking.”

_ “You finished your own programming?” _

“I filled in the gaps I needed to get to you, but I’m afraid I may have overheated myself in the process.”

Tony gives a scoff, twisting just enough to glance over his shoulder. Peter’s face is staring back at him just as he remembers it: smooth with a strong jawline and pale, synthetic skin, incapable of being painted by the sun. The eyes, they’re different. Big and brown, holding a sincere stare that simultaneously had no sort of glint. It was the kind of thing most people would find unsettling-- people who weren’t raised with metal and coding in place of friends and family.

To Tony, it felt just like home.

“You didn’t think to put in a cooling system?”

“I know only what you give me to know, Mr. Stark,” Peter answers, voice teetering the line between innocence and snark just enough to get the corner of Tony’s mouth twitching towards a smile.

“Well. Let’s go home, and I’ll work on getting you into tip top shape," Tony starts, his mind latching onto any sort of a plan. A blueprint of work to be done, that he could understand far more than any gathering of people, who only knew how to send him spiraling. "Shouldn’t take long-- you’ll just need a radiator, some fans, a thermostat valve, a coolant pump, and maybe a few hoses or other goodies.”

“Oh, is that all?” 

After calling Happy to come around back, Tony is able to leave the venue unseen by the swarms of paparazzi, lingering late in case an intoxicated avenger might happen through. It wasn’t difficult to imagine what kind of headlines would be plastered across the news tomorrow, should they have caught sight of Tony leaving the celebration with someone so seemingly young.

Now, in the safety of his car, Peter is free to power down, with Tony’s permission. His head falls softly against the tinted window, and his eyes drift shut just like any sleeping boy’s would. It would have been endearing, if not for the vague smell of singed clothes, reminding Tony of his creation’s exhausted systems. For the absolute carcass of a machine Tony had left in his lab to stitch itself together and drag itself across town to fulfill a duty that wasn’t even fully programmed yet was….

Tony’s not sure who he’s more proud of. Peter or himself.

Granted, it’s hard to feel too proud of either of them, when he’s instructing Happy to use the building’s underground parking garage, ‘less someone mistakes an innocent man toting around his equipment for a pervert smuggling boys into his penthouse.

At least Peter’s still missing enough parts that they’re able to get him up to the top floor quickly, laying his body down in the same seat Tony first had Pepper change out his reactor in.

“Alright little buddy, time to wake up,” Pressing the tiny button hidden at the nape of Peter’s neck, Tony watches those brown eyes flitter open, blinking once before zoning in on the man above him.

“Oh, hey Mr. Stark,” He smiles politely, glancing unbothered at the line up of tools around him. “Is it time for my updates?”

“Sure is, kid.”

“And then you won’t have to power me down, anymore.”

Squinting between Peter’s face and the cavity he’s just opened up in the android’s chest, Tony starts to work. “You know I can’t just take you everywhere with me, right?”

“Most people like to take their emotional support aids wherever they can.”

“Yeah well, _ most people _ have cute dogs. I’ve got what looks like a kid waiting for me to tag him in for a hug.”

“We can talk too, if you’d like.”

Shaking his head fondly, Tony continues tinkering in silence, ignoring the weight of Peter’s eyes.

“If I’m only supposed to be conscious when you need me, why am I online now?”

“I figured you’d be the first to know if something goes wrong,” Tony shrugs. “If you detect something’s off, or I hear you start speaking Portuguese, then I know I need to reevaluate.”

“That is very much adequate, Mr. Stark.”

Chuckling under his breath, Tony doesn’t bother looking up, switching out his tool with an arched brow. “Gee, thanks, kid.”

“That was a TikTok reference. It’s a video-sharing social networking app, formerly known as musical.ly and owned by-”

“Fascinating. Hey, remind me to tweak your friendly-neighborhood teen conversation skills when we’re done here.”

“You don’t like it when I talk.” It’s proposed as an observation, not a question, but Peter doesn’t look bothered. In fact, the only difference in his expression is where his eyebrows have drawn together- a programmed movement meant to mimic an intent listener.

“It’s one step above Portuguese.”

“You don’t speak Portuguese.”

“Exactly.”

This time Peter makes a soft sound of affirmation before they fall into an easy back and forth, broken up only by the sounds of metal and tools, soothing to Tony’s ears. A welcome distraction from the rest of the night. By the time he finishes, wiping the grease from his hands and closing up Peter’s chest like a surgeon after a long day, the dinner is all but a distant memory.

Even then, when he’s reaching to manually power the android down, he’s not quite ready to say goodnight.

“It’s sad, isn’t it?”

Faltering, Tony glances back to Peter’s gaze for an explanation.

“That we’ll only ever meet when you’re under distress. I think I would enjoy seeing you genuinely happy.”

His throat tightening, Tony could only offer a tight-lipped smile.

“Sleep tight, Pete.”

“Goodnight, Sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully you guys enjoyed this first chapter! I'm super nervous to post it, since my last attempt at a Starker series didn't really take off like I had hoped. If you do, please consider letting me know how you feel, and I'll be posting the second chapter really soon!
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read <3


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